by Muhammad YUSUF


Oh, my father’s birthplace,

My lovely motherland,

Let me lay my soul on your shade.


You are the most benignant,

You are so great,

For Rome– your clover-field – I cannot trade. 


The Earth is covered with water and slopes,

I saw many countries, fates and hopes,

Your mountains uphold me and follow,

Asking to be proud high and low.


I met the most adorable white hands,

It seems I am naïve or a self-lover –

Since for me the best Paris restaurants

Before your tandoor are out of favor.


I’m stubborn,

I can’t speak a foreign language,

I don’t sleep and comfort leaves my mind –

What to do in three days if I anguish?

Will remain unfinished all the ride.


I perceive that you are my most sublime,

I accept this soil the closest stop.

A lamb that’s born in Bakhmal in springtime

To me is better than the Arabian antelope.


Each day I spend with you is a big fete,

Without you I’m scared, I’m full of worry.

I welcome those who know you and respect,

For those who don’t know you I feel sorry.


Translated by A’zam Obid)